


blood from the stone (of her heart)

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: RWBY Relationship Week 2015 [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, rwbyrsweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, Weiss left Beacon. Ten years later, Neo finds her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood from the stone (of her heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RWBY Relationship Week. My first roll was Weiss and Neo.

It was always cold in Atlas.

Not that it snowed every day, nor was the lake in the center of the capital always a frozen mirror, reflecting sunlight like polished silver, but even in the mild months, there was a wind that sheared through cloth and flesh alike. In twenty-seven years, Weiss couldn’t recall otherwise. That same wind now whipped across the balcony of the council palace, sliding through her hair like chilled fingertips and tossing what little of it was there from side to side in the same manner as dry wheat standing in a field.

For nearly a decade, her hair had been short, clean and symmetrical, just like the aligned bars of steel weighing down the shoulders of her jacket. It was only proper to have rank displayed here, the coat as crisp and white as the snow melting off the stone, even if the preponderance of medals pinned to her chest often seemed more trouble than it was worth. They were over her heart, a solid weight, but Weiss was used to her left side being colder than her right after so long.

Putting down her scroll, she flexed her fingers, the prosthetic lined with white Dust where veins would be on real skin. It glowed at the motion, but when Weiss made a fist, the reaction was somewhat sluggish. When the temperature reached its height today, everything would bend more easily, but she made an absent note to oil the joints after returning home. There were hours yet, even if she was more of a fixture in the palace than a commander. This work could have just been as easily done at her desk, but the Atlas Council always had an officer present in token deference to the military.

The far doors to the balcony slid open, admitting a young woman bearing a particularly heavy tray with practiced grace. A full set of teaware and accessories for coffee were balanced on its surface, steam lazily trailing from hot water and potent espresso. Fresh from Vacuo, more than likely, where the sun coddled everything that grew in the soil there.

“Good morning, Major.” Weiss didn’t recognize her face or her voice, but the palace had an army of servants and attendants who were expected to know everyone of import here. “Would you like some more coffee?”

The cup resting near her wrist had long since lost its heat, cream sluggishly gathered at the top like the crest of a wave. Weiss had forgotten about it ten minutes into reorganizing troop movements on her scroll, thanks to a mistake that had almost left the northern border completely vulnerable for hours. A special operations squad had been dropped there almost immediately by Bullhead to cover the gap until the main force regrouped, but it was still an unacceptable lapse in the safety of the kingdom.

“Please. Perhaps I’ll get through this one.” Weiss commented mildly, watching the polite smile it provoked in turn.

“You’re a very busy woman, ma’am.” Her cup was replaced with another, porcelain spotless for a long moment before it was filled close to the brim. “There are worse sins, I think. Would you like cream and sugar this time?”

“Both, but just leave them on the side.” There was a slight tremble in the woman’s fingers as she set down the tiny trays, silver clinking lightly on glass. “Thank you.”

After a brief incline of her head, she hefted the tray and disappeared back through the doors. Weiss returned her attention to her scroll, only to hear something clatter in the distance. A room away, perhaps two. She straightened up, reaching for the sword at her hip. Chrysanthe’s hilt molded to her fingers, white Dust pairing with pale gold so it couldn’t be dropped or stripped out of her grip — a flaw with Myrtenaster that had cost her the hand in the first place.

A beat of silence passed, stretching out into seconds until Weiss felt the initial pulse of adrenaline began to fade. She sighed, about to return to her work when there was the whisper of glass and wood — but the doors hadn’t moved.

“Show yourself.” Weiss snapped, bracing her feet against the floor. With a gesture, she could either flip the table or retreat out of the chair.

The air shattered like a struck mirror, breaking into a thousand reflective pieces. Neo’s eyes were the first thing she saw, pink fluttering away to a cool dark brown as the illusion fell apart. At least, the most obvious one.

Ten years. A decade narrowed to a single second as Weiss tried to tamp down the panic rising in her chest. It worked, only for the fire of rage to chase after, boiling her blood. It had been so long since she felt _anything_ so deep inside, something that could pierce the shroud of duty and honor taken on at eighteen. A year of mourning had been enough to staunch the tears, the urge to follow after, but she couldn’t stand the thought of trying to be a huntress again.

That would mean a new team, strangers who would only know her as the girl who didn’t die. At least in Atlas, propriety kept anyone from commenting when she applied to join the armed forces, stationed far away from Beacon.

“You survived.” Iron shot through her voice, buckled down the pain. “I always had a suspicion.”

 _One of us had to_ , Neo quickly signed, a smug smile curving her lips. The nymph-like softness of youth was gone now, features carved deep and sharp as the blade hiding within her parasol. It had to be the same one as then, for there was a blatant scorch mark on the handle.

 _What does all that mess mean on your jacket?_ Gloved fingers gave a casual gesture towards her chest.  _Are you a general yet?_

“Ironwood’s still alive, if you haven’t noticed.” Weiss hissed back.

It would be another decade before she could be considered for such a position, which happily coincided with his retirement, but there were already rumors that the rank was hers when that day came. Her father wouldn’t have it any other way.

 _Don’t look so upset, Weiss._  Neo’s fingers twisted into a heart shape, round and mocking.  _You know I—_

She slammed the scroll down on the table, nearly putting a crack in its surface. “I know you can talk!”

 _Of course I can._ Neo shrugged, rolling her eyes — pink and silver now.  _But that ruins the illusion._

It did. That much Weiss had discovered over months of obsessive research, retracing every wrong step they had taken. For every trick on the eye Neo could weave, it was sight alone and not sound she controlled. If she had known that then, they might have had a warning, known Cinder was about to—

Her throat tightened, seized up. The memory may as well have been a brand, seared on her mind, but the simple act of recall was more like clawing at an open wound. They were all dead, all but her,  _why?_

“What do you want?” Weiss asked.

To think that Neo had even bothered to find her here, far from Vale. Her duties had nothing to do with criminals or Grimm, but keeping the order of the people and their councils. Just a month before, she had supervised the security for the meeting of kingdom officials with the leading clans of Menagerie, a diplomatic move unprecedented since the end of the Faunus Wars. There were talks of trade, an open alliance.

Blake would have been proud, she thought.

 _Closure._ Neo signed, fingers splaying open at the end of the gesture. _I never got the chance to kill Yang myself, but you’re a fair substitute._

“It doesn’t quite seem right, does it?” To hear her speak made Weiss jolt, no matter if she knew it was possible or not. Neo’s voice was lilting, musical and mocking. “To leave you all alone.”

Weiss stood up from her chair, drawing Chrysanthe and pointing the blade right at Neo’s chest. She didn’t even flinch.

“Then finish it.” Anger twisted the words low, almost guttural in her throat. “Shouldn’t I say the same to you? Cinder, Roman, everyone who you shared that madness with died too. You must be lonely.”

 _I’ve been watching you for ten years._ Neo’s mouth quirked in a lopsided grin.  _It’s never lonely._

“Why now?” Weiss spat. “Why?”

 _Aren’t you tired of being locked behind glass, Weiss?_  One of Neo’s feet slid forward, just an inch, the prelude to a proper stance.  _I remember seeing you shrouded in all that ice, trying to protect them from Cinder’s fire, but it wasn’t enough. Now you’re tied down, that noose of medals around your neck._

“How many of them are for saving people that weren’t your team?”

Chrysanthe lashed out in a blur of bright gold, connecting with Neo’s parasol just a second too soon. Weiss trembled and tried to turn the blade closer, drive it right into the other woman’s throat, but Neo showed no sign of strain, ready to hold it there until she exhausted herself.

_Are you ready to end this?_

“Yes.” The word slipped from her mouth before Weiss could think otherwise, but a glance upward made her reconsider. “In an hour.”

Neo’s head tilted to the side, openly curious.  _An hour?_

“I need to write a letter of recommendation for the officer to take my place, should you win.” It was a miracle the words came out orderly, without a single hitch. “I won’t disrupt the chain of command for a personal grudge. In the courtyard, in an hour.”

_If you call your soldiers, I’ll just disappear._

“I know that.” That was far from the plan. “It will only be the two of us.”

 _Fine._ Neo raised a brow.  _Then lower your sword and take a step back._

Weiss had to resist every screaming, agonized urge in her body to obey, but as soon as she stepped back, Neo bowed, parasol open and twirling behind her. The scintillating pattern was there and then gone before the doors slid open, leaving no other trace behind of her presence save for the unconscious woman on the floor, fallen tray leaving a mess scattered across the stone.

“In an hour.” Weiss whispered the words like a prayer, casting her eyes back towards the sky above the balcony.

She could taste rain coming in the air, knew the particular shade of slate gray Atlas clouds turned before a heavy storm. Out in the courtyard, with no roof to speak of, it would pour down upon them, and Neo’s illusions would be that much easier to see. She could bend what the eye perceived, but not nature itself. It was a chance, the only advantage Weiss could see.

Either way, by the end, the promise of peace lay right before her.


End file.
